I love Easter, and I love that as Catholics, we celebrate the Easter season, not just the day. We'll be alleluia-ing like crazy until Pentecost. Gotta love that....
There's a new feature on the blog...I added a "what I'm reading" spot. The current link is a book I picked up in response to the "Consider the Source" post from a couple of weeks ago. I'm loving it, but it's a challenging read. If I can get through a whole chapter at a sitting, then I'm doing well. Usually it's just a couple of pages. So very much to think about!
So what are you reading now?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
While we wait...
This is from an ancient homily on Holy Saturday, and is part of the office of readings for the day. The Liturgy of the Hours is a distinctly Catholic thing, but this reading speaks to all of us who wait, poised to celebrate the Resurrection tomorrow morning. I was so moved by it that I wanted to share it, and hope that you are blessed by it as well.
Something strange is happening -- there is a great silence on Earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear. He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory. At the sight of him, Adam, the first man he had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: "My Lord be with you all." Christ answered him: "And with your spirit." He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: "Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."
I am your God, who for your sake has become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.
For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home in above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.
See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in my image. On my back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of of sin that weighs upon your back. See my hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.
I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.
Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity.
Something strange is happening -- there is a great silence on Earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear. He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory. At the sight of him, Adam, the first man he had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: "My Lord be with you all." Christ answered him: "And with your spirit." He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: "Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."
I am your God, who for your sake has become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.
For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home in above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.
See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in my image. On my back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of of sin that weighs upon your back. See my hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.
I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.
Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Consider the Source
I've been accused of not existing outside my own mind. That's a stinging observation, to be sure, but Grandma always said "consider the source." Considering the source, this deserved some serious reflection (proving the point, perhaps?). The more I've reflected, the more I've had to admit that it just might be correct.
I've never been the physical type. I'm not athletic or particularly adventurous. My physical interaction with the world around me is limited to things that help me relate to the non-physical. I'm the spiritual, thinking, feeling, contemplating, theorizing type, and I've always considered the mystical and the eternal to be superior to the concrete and temporal. I've even caught myself (God forgive me!) resenting the immediate, here and now realities that claim my attention and my energy because they take me away from the "things that really matter." But here's the kick-in-the-teeth-reality-check of the day: Christ embraced humanity to the point of becoming human. The God of the universe deigned to encompass His deity in human flesh -- to step into the temporal, physical world and walk among us as a man. He was raised in a traditional Jewish home; isn't it reasonable to assume that he was taught Joseph's trade? He hung out with fishermen; isn't it probable that he did some net-hauling along the way? Jesus laughed, cried, worked, played, celebrated and mourned...as a man!
I don't do well with managing my time or my tasks...the time seems to get away with the tasks undone, or ten other things demand attention and my "did it" list at the end of the day looks nothing like my "to do" list did at the beginning. I get so frustrated with things that seem so easy to other moms but that I can't seem to grasp. I can read, research, write, and plan, but in the practical application, I always seem to miss the mark completely. I've never been able to marry my contemplative personality to the practical necessities of my world, no matter how hard I try. Perhaps it's time for a new approach....
If I am to truly embrace Christ, mustn't I embrace his humanity just as fervently as I embrace his deity? He is fully God and fully man, body and blood, soul and divinity. No element is extricable from the others. I have to look again at this savior of mine, and open my heart to see him more clearly.
We are on the cusp of Holy Week, and I am challenged in a new way. Fully human, the God of all creation bore the entirety of human suffering and sin, obedient even to a disgraceful and gruesome death. Can I embrace Christ in his humanity now? Can I see what was here, temporally present, and embrace it rather than looking past it to the resurrection? The battle for salvation was won on Sunday morning, but it was fought at its fiercest in the garden, before the Sanhedrin, and on the cross. Is Christ in his humanity the key to my freedom in mine? Consider the source....
I've never been the physical type. I'm not athletic or particularly adventurous. My physical interaction with the world around me is limited to things that help me relate to the non-physical. I'm the spiritual, thinking, feeling, contemplating, theorizing type, and I've always considered the mystical and the eternal to be superior to the concrete and temporal. I've even caught myself (God forgive me!) resenting the immediate, here and now realities that claim my attention and my energy because they take me away from the "things that really matter." But here's the kick-in-the-teeth-reality-check of the day: Christ embraced humanity to the point of becoming human. The God of the universe deigned to encompass His deity in human flesh -- to step into the temporal, physical world and walk among us as a man. He was raised in a traditional Jewish home; isn't it reasonable to assume that he was taught Joseph's trade? He hung out with fishermen; isn't it probable that he did some net-hauling along the way? Jesus laughed, cried, worked, played, celebrated and mourned...as a man!
I don't do well with managing my time or my tasks...the time seems to get away with the tasks undone, or ten other things demand attention and my "did it" list at the end of the day looks nothing like my "to do" list did at the beginning. I get so frustrated with things that seem so easy to other moms but that I can't seem to grasp. I can read, research, write, and plan, but in the practical application, I always seem to miss the mark completely. I've never been able to marry my contemplative personality to the practical necessities of my world, no matter how hard I try. Perhaps it's time for a new approach....
If I am to truly embrace Christ, mustn't I embrace his humanity just as fervently as I embrace his deity? He is fully God and fully man, body and blood, soul and divinity. No element is extricable from the others. I have to look again at this savior of mine, and open my heart to see him more clearly.
We are on the cusp of Holy Week, and I am challenged in a new way. Fully human, the God of all creation bore the entirety of human suffering and sin, obedient even to a disgraceful and gruesome death. Can I embrace Christ in his humanity now? Can I see what was here, temporally present, and embrace it rather than looking past it to the resurrection? The battle for salvation was won on Sunday morning, but it was fought at its fiercest in the garden, before the Sanhedrin, and on the cross. Is Christ in his humanity the key to my freedom in mine? Consider the source....
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The List of What Went Right
The day wasn't a total loss, after all!
1. The choir sang at the mall, and no one threw rotten tomatoes.
2. We had french toast and scrambled eggs for dinner...always a good thing. And the kids cleared and rinsed their plates without a fight.
3. Mr. Redsocks had lots of here-there-and-everywhere stuff to do yesterday, and he made it home safely and without major incident.
4. I managed to get a couple of loads of laundry done so no one had to go to Mass naked this morning.
5. A skilled friend agreed to come and hang our old kitchen cabinets so we can use them until we can afford new ones.
6. My children, despite the fact that they drove me crazy, gave me hugs and kisses goodnight when I tucked them in.
7. I was kept in the hollow of my Father's hand, preserved from harm, and granted his provision for another day by his love and grace.
8. I have stuff to do today -- another chance to do better! And a reason to cut this post short and get busy, because my blessings are innumerable!
1. The choir sang at the mall, and no one threw rotten tomatoes.
2. We had french toast and scrambled eggs for dinner...always a good thing. And the kids cleared and rinsed their plates without a fight.
3. Mr. Redsocks had lots of here-there-and-everywhere stuff to do yesterday, and he made it home safely and without major incident.
4. I managed to get a couple of loads of laundry done so no one had to go to Mass naked this morning.
5. A skilled friend agreed to come and hang our old kitchen cabinets so we can use them until we can afford new ones.
6. My children, despite the fact that they drove me crazy, gave me hugs and kisses goodnight when I tucked them in.
7. I was kept in the hollow of my Father's hand, preserved from harm, and granted his provision for another day by his love and grace.
8. I have stuff to do today -- another chance to do better! And a reason to cut this post short and get busy, because my blessings are innumerable!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Misnomer?
This blog is subtitled "what went right when things went wrong...". Today, however, I'm having a hard time finding the "what went right." I'm feeling behind the game so far that I'm not sure I'll ever get close enough to eat last place's dust. I also suspect that no amount of chocolate, ice cream, or other mind-numbing, soul-soothing delight is gonna make this one better. In fact, a "pause" button is all I can think of that would truly be helpful -- freeze everyone and everything else around, take a moment to clear my head, make a well-prioritized to-do list, and then tackle it, uninterrupted, one task at a time. So far no luck on that one, either.
Here's the part where I grit my teeth, pray for enough sanity to make it until bedtime, and head to the kitchen to start dinner. I'm definitely wearing my red socks to bed tonight, and taking time to make a list of what did indeed go right today. I'm sure there's something. It's just going too fast to see from this close....
Here's the part where I grit my teeth, pray for enough sanity to make it until bedtime, and head to the kitchen to start dinner. I'm definitely wearing my red socks to bed tonight, and taking time to make a list of what did indeed go right today. I'm sure there's something. It's just going too fast to see from this close....
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Springtime Reminiscence
BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
I read this poem years ago, sitting in the chair at my grandmother's house. (Read the whole poem HERE.) I was young enough then that I could read and understand the poem, but not truly grasp the sentiment. Now, though, I understand. My thoughts turn to my grandmother and my mother-in-law whenever I hear the opening line. They've both been gone for nearly three years, and they'd both be celebrating birthdays this week. Now I know what it is to long for the honest, simple presence of these two women in my life.
My grandmother's hand in my childhood was my touchstone of stability and order, but it was also the hand that led me into new places, new experiences, and new arenas of thought.
My mother-in-law is the image I hold as the mother I want to be. She had a way of shepherding her children with a loving touch, tempering the passions of those around her, and inspiring the best in all of us. She was quiet and simple, instinctively patient, and somehow always held things together.
At the end of my days, I am tired. I'm aware of all that I have left undone, time I might have spent better, words I wish I'd never said, ways that I've not lived up to my own expectations or to the examples set by these women I so long to emulate. I want to hear them reassure me that morning will come with new grace, and that whatever my frustration, time and love will be enough to bring it into perspective. I want to feel a comforting hand stroking my hair, hear a gentle voice bearing wisdom born of faith and experience, smell the familiar smells of each of their embraces as I bury my face and let the rest of the world slip from my awareness.
And just so, I draw my children to me. I embrace them, kiss their foreheads, stroke their hair away from their eyes, and pray that someday they will take comfort in those simple memories, just as I will tonight when I close my eyes and let my memories rock me to sleep.
Make me a child again just for to-night!
I read this poem years ago, sitting in the chair at my grandmother's house. (Read the whole poem HERE.) I was young enough then that I could read and understand the poem, but not truly grasp the sentiment. Now, though, I understand. My thoughts turn to my grandmother and my mother-in-law whenever I hear the opening line. They've both been gone for nearly three years, and they'd both be celebrating birthdays this week. Now I know what it is to long for the honest, simple presence of these two women in my life.
My grandmother's hand in my childhood was my touchstone of stability and order, but it was also the hand that led me into new places, new experiences, and new arenas of thought.
My mother-in-law is the image I hold as the mother I want to be. She had a way of shepherding her children with a loving touch, tempering the passions of those around her, and inspiring the best in all of us. She was quiet and simple, instinctively patient, and somehow always held things together.
At the end of my days, I am tired. I'm aware of all that I have left undone, time I might have spent better, words I wish I'd never said, ways that I've not lived up to my own expectations or to the examples set by these women I so long to emulate. I want to hear them reassure me that morning will come with new grace, and that whatever my frustration, time and love will be enough to bring it into perspective. I want to feel a comforting hand stroking my hair, hear a gentle voice bearing wisdom born of faith and experience, smell the familiar smells of each of their embraces as I bury my face and let the rest of the world slip from my awareness.
And just so, I draw my children to me. I embrace them, kiss their foreheads, stroke their hair away from their eyes, and pray that someday they will take comfort in those simple memories, just as I will tonight when I close my eyes and let my memories rock me to sleep.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Happy New Year!
Yes, I know it's March. I say "Happy New Year" for two reasons. One, I haven't posted since last November (Yikes! Where did that time go?). Two, I have come to mark this time of year as a new year in a spiritual sense.
I spent last weekend away at a Mothers' retreat at a local retreat center. It is an annual event, and it takes place the first weekend of Lent every year. So we begin with Ash Wednesday, a day to fast, pray, and focus on the penitential season at hand, and almost immediately find time away to pray, go to confession, and be instructed and encouraged by other moms and some perfectly wonderful retreat directors.
Over the last 20 years or so, I have come to more and more fully realize that to truly embrace the anastasis, resurrection, of Easter, we have to more and more fully embrace the aftothysia and thanatos, self-sacrifice and death, that precedes it in lent and Holy Week. So I begin another Lent, a "New Year," resolved to grow in faith, hope, and love, embracing the passion of my Lord with renewed commitment.
"Draw me nearer, nearer blessed Lord, to the cross where thou hast died. Draw me nearer, nearer blessed Lord, to thy precious bleeding side."
I spent last weekend away at a Mothers' retreat at a local retreat center. It is an annual event, and it takes place the first weekend of Lent every year. So we begin with Ash Wednesday, a day to fast, pray, and focus on the penitential season at hand, and almost immediately find time away to pray, go to confession, and be instructed and encouraged by other moms and some perfectly wonderful retreat directors.
Over the last 20 years or so, I have come to more and more fully realize that to truly embrace the anastasis, resurrection, of Easter, we have to more and more fully embrace the aftothysia and thanatos, self-sacrifice and death, that precedes it in lent and Holy Week. So I begin another Lent, a "New Year," resolved to grow in faith, hope, and love, embracing the passion of my Lord with renewed commitment.
"Draw me nearer, nearer blessed Lord, to the cross where thou hast died. Draw me nearer, nearer blessed Lord, to thy precious bleeding side."
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